“But although we had so far escaped, yet were we in the greatest jeopardy. For the sun was nearly down, and how should we reach the camp, each by a roundabout way, before it grew dark? and how should we pass the King’s outposts after? Nangeza might go in by herself, pleading some excuse; but I—how was I to remain out? for even though the King should not require my attendance upon him—and on this I could not reckon—yet he who wanders abroad at night incurs peril from the staff of the ‘smeller-out,’ for we hold that tagati always takes place during the hours of darkness, and the man who loves to wander abroad at such times, what can he be seeking but means to practise the foul and evil spells of wizardry?
“Long before we reached the camp it grew quite dark, and now we did not separate, for I would not leave Nangeza; for multitudes of wild beasts accompanied our migration, because of the abundant feasts we provided them with almost daily—even the flesh of men—and already we could hear their roarings and snarlings in the darkness. Moreover, it might be easier for two to pass the outposts together, than to double the chances of failure by making two separate attempts.
“As we advanced, noiselessly, stealthily, in the gloom, we heard a low humming sound, which seemed to come from the earth. We stood for a moment holding our breath, for we knew that sound. It was the voice of a man, singing, and he might have been twelve spear-lengths in front of us. We knew the ground also. We were in a little valley between two low hills. Probably on each of the latter was another sentinel. Nangeza threw her skin kaross over both our heads, and breathed forth her plan—for the plan was hers. I was for taking the risk of slipping past—she, for the bolder but safer method of overpowering the sentinel.
“Worming like serpents along the ground, we made our way up behind him bit by bit, and the time consumed must have been enormous, for we would not risk failure for the sake of impatience. But this fool surely courted his own undoing, for he sat there singing. Every time he stopped singing we stopped in our advance, but so fond was he of his own voice that he soon began again. Then Nangeza, creeping up behind him, flung her kaross over his head, at the same time throwing her arms around him and pinioning his tightly to his sides.
“The man struggled, but with the kaross over his head and in his mouth he could not cry out. Still, he struggled, and it took us both all we could do to master him quickly. We could easily have killed him, but had decided it were better not to. At length, with the thong Nangeza had brought to tie the firewood we bound him hand and foot, having gagged him with his own mútya, and thus we left him.
“All this while we had spoken no word, lest our voices should be recognised by him; further, we had been careful to leave nothing which might lead to suspicion travelling our way. We were now safe within the outposts, and in the huge camp we could easily pass unnoticed. It was time to separate, and as we did so Nangeza said:
“‘Farewell now, Untúswa. Have patience and courage. I shall see thee an induna yet.’
“‘That may be so,’ I answered rather gloomily, for now that the adventure was over all my foreboding and disappointment came back. ‘But we have only seen the first of this night’s doings. The last may wear a very different sort of countenance.’
“And thus we parted.
“Now, Nkose, a portion of my gloom came of the knowledge of what would happen to the sentinel whom we had overpowered. Death would be his lot as surely as though I had driven my spear through his heart. I had a mind to go back and loose him, but that would mean giving my life for his, and I was not tired of life just yet. Moreover, it would mean the sacrifice of Nangeza also, and it were better that one person should perish than that two should. Yet, being still young and soft of heart, I felt sad as I thought of the doomed sentinel.”